I remembered my mother. It was something that I have been doing every day for the past twenty years, and then I got an evaluation of being ill and naive. More and more I feel that supporting her divorce is an absolutely correct thing. In this world, one day, living the life you want and saying goodbye to guilt is more important than anything else. People should live for themselves, no matter what kind of life, cry if you want to cry, laugh if you want to laugh. Her life is as fixed as a few sets of fixed shots. Her life has only those few scenes. Occasionally taking care of children and going out to buy something are all adjustments to her life. Chatting with neighbors, listening to other people's speech, she can't help herself whether she wants to listen, whether she wants to communicate with others, or whether she wants to do what she wants to do. The picture of peeling potatoes reminds me of "The Horse of Turin", life is so boring, every day is the same. In the eyes of others, everything she experiences in her daily life is trivial, and her world is so big, but who knows that in the cramped kitchen, the milk for making coffee makes her sick? Mom's outburst chose divorce, which is a mild way of normal life, and her outburst chose to kill, which is an extreme method that people can accept. There is no difference between the two.
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